


Fem!Stiles and the Glitter Nail Polish

by hufflepirate



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-01
Updated: 2014-04-01
Packaged: 2018-01-17 18:59:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1398928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hufflepirate/pseuds/hufflepirate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Girl!Stiles isn't really girly.  She never really has been, and since her mom died when she was a kid, she's felt like she couldn't be even if she wanted to.  Which she totally doesn't.  Except for the part where sometimes she might.  On rare occasions.  She isn't sure yet.  Scott is as understanding as usual, his new girlfriend Allison is a surprisingly nice person, and Stiles's Dad is always full of surprises.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fem!Stiles and the Glitter Nail Polish

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hypocorism](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hypocorism/gifts).



Stiles's birthday present from Scott had been a blue lacquer bangle bracelet that clasped in the front with what looked like a tiny belt buckle. She could open and close it easily with her left hand, even while she was wearing it, and because of its combination of clasp and oval shape it had both the advantage of being more solid and weighty than a stretch bracelet and the advantage of not falling down onto her actual hands and getting in the way of doing things, like regular bangles did. It was the first piece of jewelry she had truly loved since the star necklace her mother gave her before she died. Stiles hadn't taken the bracelet off for any significant length of time since Scott gave it to her a month ago, and she didn't have any plans to do so any time soon.

The bracelet was a bad idea for the same reason that Stiles wasn't allowed to use pens that clicked anymore, but Scott didn't much care. Stiles was his best friend, and if she was happy, he was happy. He got used to the steady _clack clack clack_ of the bracelet's clasp opening and closing within a few days and left Stiles alone about it. Other students were less accommodating. Jackson yelled at Stiles for it first, but Jackson was an asshole, and he'd been mean to Scott all year, and Stiles didn't seem too bothered about his opinion of her. She flipped Jackson off and kept clicking. Actually, Scott was pretty sure the bracelet-clicking actually got more intense around Jackson, instead of less, and he couldn't quite bring himself to mind.

Lydia didn't even bother to approach Stiles about it. She approached Scott instead, with a few accusations thrown in about Scott either having done this on purpose or being an idiot. Scott made sure Lydia decided he was just an idiot and that neither he not Stiles meant to offend her. But he didn't say anything to Stiles about the encounter and he didn't tell Lydia that he'd bought the thing because Stiles had been feeling unfeminine lately and she'd been sad about it. Stiles had had a crush on Lydia since they were in 3rd grade, and Scott refused to admit his friend's weaknesses and insecurities in front of someone he knew she still wished she could impress.

Stiles still wore boys' undershirts with her dad's old flannel shirts open over them, the sleeves rolled loosely up to her elbows. She still wore ratty athletic shoes under her not-quite-fashionable jeans. Her hair was still a tangled mess even when she put it up in a ponytail for lacrosse, and she didn't look any more girly than she had before, really. But when she looked at the bracelet, she smiled, and unclasped it, and reclasped it, and tried to spin it around her unnaturally skinny wrists even when it was closed. And that was good enough.

Stiles placed the bracelet very carefully in her locker, on top of the school clothes she'd shoved unceremoniously into it, and Allison commented, "Hey, I noticed that you wear that bracelet a lot. Is it special?"

Stiles almost jumped out of her gym shorts. She still wasn't used to sharing the girls' locker room with Allison. She wasn't used to sharing _anything_ with Allison, but since Allison had been on the lacrosse team for three weeks and dating Scott (Facebook official) since three days ago, Stiles figured she'd better get used to it. "Nah," she answered, "I just like it." But then her mouth ran on without her. "I mean, it was a present from Scott, so that doesn't suck either."

Allison looked uncomfortable for a moment. "Oh, so did you and Scott, like..."

Stiles laughed, putting the pieces together when Allison trailed off. "Date? No. Eww. I mean, Scott's great, but we were in diapers together. He's like my brother." It was enough, but her nerves always did make her ramble, "I just mentioned that I kind of felt like I wasn't girly enough, and he bought it for my birthday. Scott's like that. I'm sure he's gonna be a great boyfriend. I mean - For you. Not me. Obviously. Um. Even though we used to get that a lot, actually, people thinking we were dating. Not from our parents, though. They know we're not. I mean, everyone knows we're not, now. 'Cause Scott's dating _you_. I mean - oh gosh - like, that's not why he's doing it. He really likes you. He says your eyes are like stars and your laugh sounds like a pile of sleeping puppies. I shouldn't have said that. That doesn't even make sense, because Scott's an idiot, but what he means is it makes him happy. And he probably didn't want you to know that yet, so I should not have said it. But... I mean... If it helps, he's a really sweet idiot? I'm gonna... I'm gonna go." Stiles slammed her locker shut and ran out the door and toward the practice field as fast as she'd let her mouth run that whole stupid time.

The worst part was that she really _didn't_ love Scott as any more than a brother. And sure, they'd worn matching ties to Homecoming last year and she'd fallen asleep in his bed on late video-gaming nights more times than she could count, but that was not the point at all. And now she was pretty sure Allison had gotten the wrong idea.

"Dude, I am never allowed to talk to your girlfriend again," she said, sinking onto the bench next to Scott. "I just put my foot in my mouth _so many times_. It was the worst."

Allison was there before Scott could ask too many questions, weaving her fingers between Scott's but refusing to tell him what Stiles had said in the locker room. "Girl code," she explained casually, "What happens in the locker room stays in the locker room." She rolled her eyes at Scott when he asked for more details, but it made Stiles feel included.

Stiles smiled tentatively at the other girl. People didn't usually apply girl code to her. She hung out with the guys too much, and by the time she'd started to mind not being involved in anything girly, she'd realized she didn't have the makeup-hair-fashion skills she seemed to need for a place in the Great Social Order of Girls. But now she had a clicky bracelet and Allison was keeping secrets from Scott for her. Stiles was going to end up caving and telling Scott what had happened later, because that was how his stupid brown puppy-dog eyes worked, but for the moment, it was nice, having a girls' locker room secret. She'd been the only girl on the lacrosse team for too long to have had a girls' locker room anything.

Stiles was in lacrosse because Scott was, because it had been something to do after school, and because unlike basketball or soccer, she knew they didn't have enough girls to field a separate girls' team and she'd be allowed to play with Scott. But she'd warmed up to it and it had become one of her favorite things, even if she still hadn't gotten to play in an actual game yet. She just wasn't good enough, and not because she was a girl. Now Allison was here, too, and the other girl seemed to be in it because she actually, actively enjoyed the game. Stiles had originally thought the other girl was also here for Scott, but now here Scott and Stiles were, riding the bench, and Coach was seriously considering putting Allison on the field next game.

The other girl had impeccable aim, and any time she took a shot, there was a good chance it would go in. She said part of it was just hand-eye coordination from when she was an archer, but Stiles was pretty sure Allison was just good at everything. Which was a little bit unfair, if she was totally honest. But today, Allison had applied Girl Code to Stiles, and she was pretty sure that called for some kind of reciprocal display of sisterhood, so Stiles cheered Allison on every time they took turns with individual drills, just like she always cheered on Scott. Allison smiled at her and accepted her high-fives and Stiles decided Scott's girlfriend wasn't so bad after all.

After practice, Stiles was leaving when Allison asked her a question. "So, does the bracelet work? Does it make you feel more girly?"

Allison was sitting on one of the benches, tying a bow around her ankle in the ribbons of her sandal, which had a wedge heel that added at least 3 inches, maybe 4, to her height. A hairbrush sat beside her, but the moment she'd taken her hair out of the ponytail she wore for practice, it had looked fine to Stiles. Better than Stiles's tangled mess, anyway. Stiles was pretty sure Allison had never felt unfeminine in her life.

"Yeah," she answered, trying not to encourage the other girl to talk about feelings too much, but also trying not to ruin whatever had made Allison think Stiles counted as part of the Girl Code. "I mean, it's not much, but it just... Reminds me, I guess."

"Reminds you you're a girl?"

"Reminds me somebody might be able to see me as one if I wanted, instead of as one of the guys."

Stiles left before Allison could answer. She liked the other girl, but she didn't really want to hear the wisdom of a girly-girl about her situation. She was sure whatever Allison was thinking about, it wasn't the same.

On Friday, Allison left practice early for a dentist's appointment and when Stiles got back to the locker room there was a bottle of nail polish on the bench beside her locker, the same blue as the bracelet, with silver glitter in it that matched her battered necklace, which she never took off at all, not even for lacrosse. Apparently, Allison had noticed that, too. There was a note with it that said, "In case you want to try being both." It took a moment for Stiles to figure out what she was talking about, but then she remembered and smiled. In case she wanted to be a girl AND one of the guys. And why not? She didn't trust the little glass bottle not to break in her backpack, so she shoved it in her pocket instead, and went home to try it out. Scott had a date with Allison, so it was just going to be her and her dad watching movies tonight anyway.

By the time Sheriff Stilinski got home, Stiles had the messiest polished nails she'd ever seen and she was sitting on the couch, glaring at them in frustration. How was this so _hard_? Half the girls at school were idiots, and they could manage a little nail polish. But Stiles's nails were smudged everywhere and she'd gotten polish on bits of her hands she hadn't meant to get it on, and there was a little bit on her jeans, too, where her left hand had been even less up to the task than her right. And now she couldn't figure out how to get it off, because no matter how much she scratched at it, it just stayed put.

Her dad came over and kissed her on the forehead, taking in the whole scene with a carefully neutral expression on his face. "Hi, Dad," she said. When she didn't mention the nail-painting fiasco, he didn't either. He just said he was going to stop by the store on his way to pick up dinner, and asked if she needed anything. She nagged him to get a nice, healthy salad to go with their usual Stilinski-movie-night pizza, even though she had no intention of eating any herself, and carefully avoided the subject of anything else she might need, like a new set of hands that didn't suck at putting on nail polish.

When her dad got home, the first thing he did was pull a bottle of something out of the Drug-store plastic bag that he held under the pizza box. "Let's get you cleaned up before we eat. I don't want you getting little flakes of glitter in your pizza. Stiles glared. "But dad, it'll get cold! And anyway, this stuff is _so_ not going anywhere."

Sheriff Stilinski laughed. "Yeah, I know. But you've been picking at it, and it's better safe than sorry. But don't worry. That's why I bought nail polish remover. We'll do your nails back once you've finished getting pizza grease on everything."

Stiles groaned. "Ugh, no. Let's not bother. It was silly anyway. That stuff is a nightmare."

Her dad cleaned the polish gently from her fingers. It took forever, because the glitter was extremely stubborn, but luckily she had (mostly) not applied it very thickly and it hadn't had all that much time to really set. She laid her head on his shoulder as he finished cleaning her second hand and said, "Thanks, Dad. Sorry I was all dumb and girly and messy today."

Her dad laughed, pressing a kiss to her forehead, "Baby, you've been messy since the day you were born. The day you _don't_ make a mess, I'll assume something has gone wrong." He finished getting the last of the polish off and then washed her hands like she was 2 years old and couldn't do it herself and dried them with the kitchen towel. They had to nuke the pizza, but he let her pick the movie while it was in the microwave, which wasn't so bad, because it had been a while since she'd had Supreme Power Over The TV, and if slightly-less-than-perfect pizza was the way to get it, she'd take that trade.

They settled in for what was probably at least their 30th viewing of the old _Superman_ with Christopher Reeve, Stiles turning sideways on the couch with her feet over the arm and leaning back against her dad's side. Stiles usually preferred Batman to Superman, hands down, but when she'd had a bad day, nothing made her feel better like America's favorite Interplanetary Boy Scout. Besides which, the scene where Margo Kidder read the lyrics to "Can You Read My Mind" instead of singing them was basically comedy gold.

Even so, once the pizza was gone and they'd made a decent dent in the salad (sometimes she had to be supportive of her old man, after all), Stiles found herself getting distracted by the thought of - of all things - nail polish. Her dad got up to take the plates to the kitchen, and when he came back, she snuggled up against his side with a sigh. Her dad watched her instead of the end of the movie, as her eyes darted periodically down from Superman's final rescue of Lois Lane to glance at her nails. She couldn't help it. She'd gotten excited about the whole idea of painting her nails, and it was _dumb_ , and she _knew_ it was, but now... now she was just disappointed with herself.

As the credits rolled, Sheriff Stilinski hugged her tight for a moment and then asked gently, "Stiles, are you _sure_ you don't want your nails done? I used to help your mom with hers once she... you know." Stiles did know. She remembered her mom not being able to keep focused on one thing long enough to get it done, remembered her wandering around the house carrying her medicine instead of taking it before they had to take her to the hospital, remembered her mother's erratic impulses and screaming at things no one else could see. She remembered feeling sad and knowing her mom was irreparably broken. But she didn't remember her dad painting her mom's nails, and she wasn't sure she'd ever even seen it. Even so...

"I kind of do, Dad. It's really stupid, but I kind of do."

The Sheriff nodded. "We'll keep the lights on for Superman 2, then."

Stiles raised an eyebrow, "What, no 'We'd better get to bed, Stiles, I have an early morning at work?'"

Her dad raised an eyebrow back, picking up the little bottle of nail polish from where Stiles had left it on the coffee table. Now there was a little dribble of glitter on the table, too, but her dad just rolled his eyes at it and started rolling the bottle back and forth between his palms, "I mean, unless you _want_ to go to bed at 10:00 like an old lady, Stiles..."

She laughed, "No, no, I'm good. Just checking."

The Sheriff smiled. "Good. Then go wash your hands while I get this ready." Stiles leapt off the couch and went to follow directions. When she was halfway to the kitchen, her dad shouted back "Wash them _well_ , Stiles!"

The Sheriff started the movie when he got back from retrieving the Vaseline from of the bathroom cabinet, but neither of them paid the screen much attention. The Sheriff's hands were gentle in spite of their many gun callouses as he spread Vaseline over the skin next to Stiles's nails ("So the polish doesn't stick if I miss,") and started painting, hunched over his little girl's hand on his knee. He was surprisingly expert, the polish going on neatly and smoothly with three strokes per nail, just like when girls painted their nails on TV, and Stiles couldn't stop watching.

After he'd done her first hand, the Sheriff realized Stiles wasn't paying any attention to the movie, but he left it running anyway. 

"You know, Stiles," he said after a while, "It's really not stupid."

Stiles blushed, "Yeah, it is. I feel silly doing it. I'm not a girly-girl."

Her dad finished painting her last nail, his hand not wavering at all. "No. But your mom was, sometimes. I just didn't think you wanted that for yourself. And I never want you to have to be a person you don't want to be. But there's nothing wrong with being girly. You can be girly and smart, if you want. Or girly and athletic. Or girly and anything. If it's what you want."

"I know," she said, feeling less awkward than she might have been, talking about something like this, but still not really sure what to say, "It's just... I mean... I _didn't_ want to. But... I dunno, then I maybe did, and I realized I don't even know how. And I don't _need_ to know. I can get by without all that. 'Cause you're, like... I mean... You're busy."

Her dad reached out to grab her chin and look into her eyes. "Stiles, I will never be too busy for you. Never. If you want to paint your nails, I'll teach you to do it. If you want French braids and shopping and makeup, I will learn how to make it happen. And if you want to keep playing lacrosse and having superhero movie marathons and playing Call of Duty until I drag your butt to bed so you get actual sleep before school on Monday, you can do that too. But I will never in my life be too busy for you. I promised you that the day you were born. And I haven't always been the greatest at following that up. But if you need something, Stiles, you just ask. Ok? Even if it's 'silly' or you can 'get by without it.' I want you to be happy."

Stiles didn't know what to say to that. She opened her mouth and closed it again. Then she blurted out, "Daddy, can you paint my toes, too?"

The Sheriff laughed, kissing her on the forehead. "Of course, Pumpkin. Scoot over to the other end of the couch and give me your feet." It had been a long time since her dad had called her "Pumpkin," but then it had been a long time since she'd called him "Daddy," so she supposed they were even. As she sprawled out on the couch with her feet in her dad's lap, Stiles pretended to watch the movie, but she was really just thinking.

When the movie was over, her dad helped her up off the couch, but before he could go lock the front door, Stiles stopped him. "Dad, when I was born, did you want a girly girl? I mean, did you think I would be..." She wasn't sure what the question was, so she let it trail off.

Her dad put a hand on her chin and looked her directly in the eye. "Stiles, when you were born, the only thing I knew was that you were perfect. And you still are. However you decide you want to be."

By the time Stiles got to school on Monday, she'd chipped half of her glittery nails and run out of conditioner, so that her already-wild hair was even more untamed than usual. She felt far from perfect, but Scott got excited about her nails, because Scott got excited about anything he thought his friends might be happy about, and Allison winked at her with a secretive little nod that made her feel very Girl Code, and when she flipped Jackson off for complaining about her bracelet-clicking a little too loudly, she knew the glitter was sparkling in the fluorescent lights of their chemistry class. And maybe, just maybe, she _could_ play around with some girly stuff and not lose herself along the way. She was starting to feel excited about finding out.

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry if some of the nail polish stuff is wrong. I actually had to Google for how to put on nail polish? It's just not my thing. Oval-shaped bangle bracelets are my thing, though! Stiles's bracelet is based on this one: http://www.charmingcharlie.com/jewelry/bracelets/quinn-buckle-up-bracelet.html#color=dark-blue, but it's an oval instead of round in the story, so the hinge would have to become two hinges on the sides for the belty-looking bit to be a clasp on the top. But I like the oval shape because it doesn't fall down and tangle up my hands, and I thought Stiles would too. So there you go.


End file.
